


Skill

by bearseokie



Series: Maroon (got7) [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Video Game World, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Smut, Swearing, Thriller, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearseokie/pseuds/bearseokie
Summary: Waking up in a bunker, Jackson is set to guide you through Liberty Mall, which is overrun with the undead. To make an escape within twenty-four hours, you’ll have to watch each other’s backs, but things aren’t as easy as he explained.
Relationships: Jackson Wang/Reader
Series: Maroon (got7) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166417
Kudos: 1





	Skill

**Author's Note:**

> repost from my tumblr @bearseokie! feedback is appreciated :)

Things clanked above, the sound of a gun loading and clicking forcing your eyes to shoot open and for you to sit upright. A man had his back to you, clips full of bullets stationed before him on the counter-top as he loaded a rifle carefully. The black tank top clung to his muscles, a layer of sweat covering his upper body as he worked on the firearms. He continued to load the array of guns on the walls, restacking the boxes of ammo as he went. The sound of you sitting up seemed unheard by him, slowly rising to your feet as you stood behind him and watched his movements closely.

“There you are,” he said, peering over his shoulder as he closed the box of bullets and stacked it on top of the others, gliding the rifle into a bag. “Glad you finally got some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

“I, uh,” you stuttered, his eyebrows furrowing as he turned to face you. “I don’t know where I am.”

“Well, that’s going to be an issue,” he stated, pointing to a large map on the wall behind you. The small, shed-like building you were inside was made into one protected room where you both stood. You noticed that some paint was chipped, the building seemed to be standing for a while now. “That might help.”

The map was the length of half of the counter-top, colored and labeled, you looked over all of the areas listed. You were inside a place called Liberty Mall, the building mapped strategically, showing safe paths and other bunkers. It looked as if you had been put in the middle of an apocalypse.

“Why are some places marked off?” you questioned at the man, his large, dark eyes glancing at you from the side as he refilled a first-aid kit.

“Because those spots are dangerous. The dead took over a lot of areas before you spawned, you’ll have a lot to catch up on,” he stated, watching his fingers move over the needles full of medications, collecting the enclosed bandages and stuffing them into their provided section, a netted pocket in the side of the red bag.

“S-spawned?”

“I know, it’s a rough concept to grasp.,” he said. “Look, let me give you the rundown: Red marked areas are dangerous, we stay away from them. If it’s marked green, then it’s a safe spot to rest. There are only two other bunkers like the one we are in now that are capable of withstanding a hoard, but we only have so long to get into them before we get overrun. The bunker we are going to next is empty, that’s why I’m gathering as much as I can for us right now. You with me?”

“I-I think so.” you stuttered again.

“Good. We have twenty-four hours left in this mall. Once those hours are up, a helicopter will be waiting for us on the roof. We’re on the far south of the mall, traveling west, heading east, then north. Our section right now is safest, but we are more likely to gain attention by the time we hit a corner going towards the east bunker.”

“Why do we have to head west and east before we hit the north?” you asked, eyebrows together as you tilted your head at the muscular man.

“Because we have to follow the trail, if we get off of it we could risk getting killed. We have to actually survive the twenty-four hours in order to leave, you know?” he laughed at your comment. “Look, we head to the west bunker tonight and get some more rest, make it to the east bunker by midday tomorrow, hang out there for a few hours without causing a commotion, then we can make it to the north stairs before the helicopter arrives.”

“Okay.” you nodded, trying to take in all of the information at once. “I have one question, and it’s probably the hardest one you’ve had to answer.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his hand on one of the first-aid kits as he slid it towards a backpack.

“What’s your name?”

His smile made your heart flutter, a light chuckle from him as he finished putting the bag together and held it out to you. You hesitated taking it, having watched him put it together, you had an idea of what was in it.

“Jackson. What’s yours?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay. Now come on, we’re about to leave,” he said as you took the bag, putting it over your shoulder as you watched him do the same.

He helped you put your bag on correctly, the heavy garment strangely silent to be filled with so much equipment. He adjusted it on your shoulder, putting it directly in the middle of your shoulder blade for full support, doing the same with the other as he lifted it on your back, the weight coming off and back on as he fixed the straps to cling to your smaller torso. His was already set as he tugged it on, gesturing for you to follow him over to the bunker’s door as he handed you a pistol, a silencer screwed into the end, to put in the right pocket of your bag.

“Use knives, not guns. Most of them are too noisy, and you’ll be dead in seconds just from the sound” he said. “This pistol is for emergencies only.”

You eyed the large door, the inside of it painted red as you looked over all of the latches, bolts, and locks. His hand ran over them all, double-checking that they were locked before he quietly clicked each one open, halting on the last one as he looked down at you with a serious expression.

“One more thing before we go,” he said as you nodded. “Don’t die on me.”

The last lock clicked, the large door creaking open as Jackson swung it out quickly. The yellow air caught you off guard, a smoke hazed around the area as you both stepped out of the safety room. The bunker wasn’t inside of the mall, placed in an area originally used as an outdoor food-court probably years ago, from the looks of it. The air smelled stale as Jackson caught your attention, a stern look on his face as his right index finger moved over his lips, motioning for you to stay quiet.

With his knees bent, he pressed your body against the side of the bunker, your eyes following him as he snuck out and ducked behind a large table flipped on its side, his body scanning around you and the bunker, then behind himself and towards the opening of the mall where you had to enter. He placed his finger over his mouth again before motioning for you to move toward him, keeping a silent pace as you quickly walked to him. His hand gripped your arm, nodding in approval at your quietness as he pulled you toward the door leading inside the mall.

The outdoors were harsh, almost every previously living thing dead or decaying. Palm trees surrounding the parking lot behind the bunker were bent to the ground, the dead plant top-heavy from the nuclear smelling air. The sky was covered in clouds, sunlight, or moonlight, you couldn’t tell, concealed by them as you peered up at the sky from under the concrete roof, bent almost to the ground as you looked. Jackson’s hand on your arm yanked you back up, shaking his head to let you know this wasn’t time for you to look around.

He put you behind him, searching in his pocket as he pulled out a hunting knife, uncovering the blade from its leather pouch as he placed it back into his pocket and held the knife upside down, blade opposite of his thumb.

“When I open this,” he whispered quietly to you. “Do not scream. Cover your mouth, suck on your thumb for a second, bite me if you have to, but do not scream.”

You nodded at him, worry filling your face as he used his free hand to latch onto the beam of the door, pushing on it as it opened. Just as the door squeaked, loud moans and screeches rushed to the door. Jackson held out, your thumb immediately moving into your mouth to hold yourself quiet as a man ran out of the door. Eyes bloodshot and skin decayed, he hissed and hurled at you and Jackson as you clung your left hand’s fingers onto the trim of Jackson’s black top. You watched Jackson reach for the man, gripping his shoulder as he rammed the door shut. The man sputtered against Jackson’s grasp, his head jolting down as his teeth attempted to sink into his skin. You watched as Jackson took in a deep breath, the hand holding the hunting knife flying back and forth as the blade inserted into the violent man’s skull, killing him instantly.

The man’s body went limp, crashing into the concrete as Jackson’s thigh held the door shut, more sounds calling behind it as he opened the door and repeated the process, only this time the violent person was a woman.

Your breathing caught his attention, the two dead bodies laying on the ground inches from you as you hugged the back of Jackson in fear.

“Look at me,” called Jackson in a whisper, your eyes unable to leave their bodies. “Hey!” he said, a little louder, your thumb falling out of your mouth. “I promise you, they’ve been dead a long time. Stay focused, I’m right here.”

You tried to slow your breathing, watching as Jackson would let one of the violent dead out from behind the door, the noises subsiding every time one went down onto the pile of others. He nodded at you to sign that they were all gone, slowly creaking the door open as you both stared down the long hallway, another door at the end. He took your hand in his, leading you down the narrow hallway as the other door shut behind you, darkness falling into the area as little light came from the windows of the adjacent doors.

Coming up to the pair of other doors, you stared through the square windows, the same yellow light within the mall. You looked around, finding a few rouge dead wander around, only a few in your sight as Jackson’s grip tightened on your hand.

“You’re doing well.” he smiled at you, his eyes brighter under the yellow glow. “We won’t need our guns for this run, okay? There’s a pocket knife in your side pocket right here beside your pistol,” he said, pulling out the large pocket knife and clicking it open, the blade sharpened so fine that you watched him shave some hair off of his arm as he demonstrated how easy it will be for you to use. “It’ll glide, you won’t have to put much pressure. Save your energy, don’t run. We can walk it without catching much attention. If anything gets close to you, specifically the dead, aim for the head. The blade will go straight in, just aim for a soft spot.”

Jackson’s larger figure guided you into the big section of the mall, the door’s sound only attracting two of the dead as they came towards the two of you, a small jog of a pace being nothing to be concerned about. Jackson grabbed one, putting his knife into its skull within seconds as the other one charged at you. Waiting patiently, he watched as you lifted your blade into the air, sending it directly into the dead’s temple as it fell to the ground without a sound. Jackson smiled at you again, taking your hand in his as you walked through the open area, the only sound you made was your shoes gently stepping over some shattered glass.

Much of the walk was silent, small groans and hissing coming from the dead that was oblivious to your presence as you walked hand in hand. Jackson would shake his head at you when you would head near one, pulling you away from them and explaining that it wasn’t necessary. The path was almost completely empty, a few wandering around in the distance as you watched them through the glass walls, some running into each other and fighting before realizing the other wasn’t alive.

The yellow sky outside was dimming, turning into a faint orange as you got closer to the west bunker. Jackson’s eyes were on everything the entire time, his grip on your hand getting tighter when he thought he heard something gaining on the two of you, but thankfully nothing did. As you neared the bunker, Jackson’s pace slowed, his hand still in yours as he turned to look behind you.

A single dead walked towards you, a tall man even excelling in height above Jackson as it stumbled over to you, a shared glance as your arm pushed against his chest, your blade digging into his skull.

“No!” screamed Jackson, shoving you behind him as the dead opened its mouth, his tongue falling out like a rolled-up rug as he began to scream.

Jackson’s hand took hold of the tongue, pulling it from his face as he shoved his knife through the dead muscle, your knife still sunk into his skull as his tongue was sliced from his body, his mouth now empty. His scream fell faint, another push on your knife from Jackson as it went silent and collapsed on the floor.

“Get in the bunker, now!” Jackson yelled, a few distant sounds calling from where you walked, the short commotion enough to grab their attention as they moved towards you.

Jackson ripped your knife from the dead’s skull, running his blade over its shirt to remove the blood before he ran behind you, shoving you into the bunker as he latched the red door. Sounds advanced on the room as you both put your ears against the door, listening for the dead calling out to the one you just killed with no response.

“Are they communicating?” you asked him, Jackson’s nod making you worried.

“We’re safe in here. It’s okay,” he said to you, running his hand over your back soothingly as he pulled away from the door and looked around the empty room.

A single light bulb swung from the ceiling, uncovered and almost blinding, but enough light to let you search for a good spot to rest. The walk didn’t seem long, but according to Jackson’s barely-working watch, it still took three hours.

“We rest for a few hours, then head out for the west bunker,” he said as he sat down beside you, your backs against the rigid wall behind you. “As I said, the other bunker is going to be harder to get to. Most of the dead have been grouping around the north stairs lately because of the sounds above. The north hallway leads up the staircase and to the roof. Thankfully the mall is only two stories.” he said as he leaned his head against the wall, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down some of his water from his metal flask, pointing at your own for you to rehydrate too.

“The dead,” you began. “They communicate?”

“On some level, yes. Clickers chatter like us still, but it’s not coherent.”

You nodded at his words. The room was quiet, a few of the dead still heard outside as you tried to slow your breathing.

“You went for a screamer.” he sighed. “That could have been so much worse.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” you sighed, too.

“I should have warned you. There are screamers, clickers that can communicate with the others to let them know we are in their area, and there are others,” he stated, head tilted at you as he spoke. “If you hear crying, don’t go near it.”

“Why not?” you wondered.

“Trust me, she’s not nice.” he shook his head.

The shivers running up Jackson’s body made you wary to continue asking questions, the hours becoming shorter as you sat in each other’s company. The dim room was eerie as you hugged his arm to your chest, putting your head on his shoulder as his hand rested against your thigh.

“How long have you been here?” you asked him, catching him off guard.

“A long time, sweetheart,” he said, a blank stare at the empty countertop. “But I get to leave soon. With you.” he smiled.

“I’m your ticket out of here?” you joked, a smile pulling in your lips as he stared into your eyes, a small nod given.

His eyes followed down your face, stopping on your lips as his face closed in on yours, lips meeting as you lifted your face near his. His lips engulfed yours, gently moving in sync as he adjusted to your body so you wouldn’t have to stretch to reach him. The hand on your thigh moving to the inside as he deepened the kiss, a slight moan falling from you as he pulled you into his lap. Legs on either side of his, he held on to your hips as his tongue snaked into your mouth, his breathing brief. Hands roaming up and down, your mouths melted together as he let out a groan, your hips digging into his crotch as he released you from the kiss.

“Shit. Ah.” he hissed at the friction, a smirk on your face as his dark eyes looked into yours, mouth gaped open as you moved to his neck.

Small bites were trailed down his skin, his sweat leaving a tang in your mouth as his hips lifted up into yours. His hard length under his pants was becoming distinct as his grip on your body became a hurried pace. Your hand moved down his torso, lifting his tank top from his chest and off to the side of the two of you, hands roaming over his defined muscles as short sounds fell from his mouth.

The grinding of his hips turned into thrusts, his patience receding as he could feel your own arousal. Almost ripping your shirt as he pulled it off, his mouth immediately went for your chest, taking your nipples between his teeth as he tongued them lightly. Your moans became louder, head thrown back as one of his hands moved to your core, palming you from above the fabric as he undid your pants and jerked them down your legs and off of your body. His arms went around your waist as he lifted you up, taking two steps over to the built-in counter as he set you down, lips moving down your body as your hands gripped his hair.

The sounds coming from him seemed almost animalistic, his mouth meeting your core as you fell back against the wall on the counter.

“Jackson,” you whined, hips rocking into his face as he licked you at a rapid pace.

You thrashed under him, hand over your mouth to keep your screams muffled as his mouth put you at his mercy, sucking and licking you like you were his first meal. Your body began to vibrate as your orgasm neared, Jackson moving from you as he kissed your neck, biting into yours just as you did his.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, his breath hot against your skin as you moaned below him.

He aligned his member with your hole, sinking himself into you as he bent over, his groans and growls driving you insane as you instantly started moving your hips. Taking him by surprise, he fought to catch up with your thrusts, holding both of your thighs down with his hands as his hips swung to meet yours, moving in and out of you with ease. He filled you to your brim, your moans rising as he pounded into you.

His rough momentum made you throw your head back against the wall, letting him take you as his hands left bruises on your thighs, pants coming from him. Your orgasm spread over you, lifting yourself to him as his mouth moved back to your lips, kissing you harshly as he continued to thrust into you. You moved to his neck, biting into his shoulder to keep from screaming as he sped up, his right hand leaving your legs to pleasure the rest of your body, making you shake under him as you came hard, the dim lighting brighter as he pulled out and came on your thighs with soft pants, kissing your neck and face as you relax against the cold, metal counter.

Jackson stood before you, sweat covering his body as he leaned against the counter, body heaving as he caught his breath. His cum was poured on your thighs, making him chuckle as he took a rag from his bag and whipped it off, tossing it beside your strewn clothes as you exchanged another kiss.

“I needed that.” he laughed quietly, kissing your cheek as he helped you down from the counter, your legs wobbly from the penetration.

“That was,” you began. “Insane.”

He laughed, tugging his underwear and pants back on as he offered you a sip from his flask to you, which you took happily. He helped you step back into your clothes, holding you up as your body still swayed. Arms wrapped tightly around you, he helped you lay on the floor, offering his now folded tank top as a pillow for you to take a small nap beside him.

The bulb above was dimmer than earlier, the bunker almost pitch black as your eyes opened and adjusted. The silence worried you, sitting up slowly as you looked around, noticing Jackson crouched by the red door, ear against it listening. His tank top was still below you, muscles tense as his gaze stared at the floor, face pale.

“What’s happening?” you questioned in a hushed tone.

“I heard her,” he said, eyes blinking as he turned toward you. “She went past not too long ago.”

“Who?”

“M-my,” he started, legs giving out under him as he fell back against the wall, his hand moving over his face as he looked to be fighting back tears.

“Jackson,” you called to him softly, crawling over to him and putting your hand in his to comfort him.

“My girlfriend.”

“Oh?” you said, voice low.

“She, uh,” he said, a tear slipping down his cheek as he tried to look at you, unable to make eye contact. “We got separated when a hoard hit the mall.”

“You were here when a hoard hit?”

“When the first one hit, yes,” he spoke deeply. “No one knew people were getting sick and rising again. People didn’t even know they were dying, they just did. We came here for a date, she was so excited.”

You gave him a small nod, gesturing for him to continue.

“She left me at the food court to go to the bathroom. The hoard hit seconds after she went in, and she got caught by a crowd trying to get back out to me. She was right there, Y/N.”

His words were so broken. The man who had gifted you the knowledge of how to wander quietly by the dead, how to protect yourself with the weapons he gave you, who seemed so strong, was so hurt. His words rushed back to you from earlier, warning you of the one who cries.

“She cries?” you asked lightly, his eyes finally finding your own as he stuttered again.

“She died calling for me. Now she wanders the mall crying,” he said. “I don’t understand why she cries.”

“Jackson,” you called to him again. “You’ve been in this mall this entire time?”

His nod hurt you, your own tears falling at the thought of such a good man stuck in the same building that he lost someone so special to him in, unable to leave.

“That’s why I haven’t left,” he said, his head falling on your shoulder as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “I-I can’t leave her, not yet.”

“You said I’m your ticket out of here.”

“You are,” he said, a smile on his lips as he gently pressed a kiss to your cheek. “So let’s leave.”

A light smack to your knee, and he was on his feet drying his tears with the back of his hand, stumbling around while gathering the strewn flasks and clothing as he reorganized them back into your bags. Taking out his knife, he ran it over a block to resharpen it, doing the same with your pocket knife to assure neither of you would run into any issues with the blade being dull.

“Do you remember what I said?” he questioned, face turning back to the stern look you had become accustomed to for Jackson.

“The east bunker is harder to get into once we hit the corner?” you asked, unsure of yourself as you spoke.

“Good girl.” he smiled at you, handing your knife back to you as he shut it closed. “The screamer from earlier might have caused a ruckus, so let me step out first to check how many we’ve got to quiet down before we head out.”

“Okay.”

Pulling his top back over his torso, he helped you put your bag back on, wiping some stray drops of sweat off your temples, the bunker rising in heat overnight. “Stay by me when we leave okay?”

You nodded, watching him get a firm grip on his hunting knife as he slowly unlatched the red door, opening it as he scanned the surroundings. The door opened further, letting you see past him as he looked around the back of the door. A small group of the dead were huddled at the end of a hallway adjacent to where the bunker sat, moving toward you and Jackson from overhearing the creak of the red door.

“Seven coming up,” Jackson whispered to you, pointing at your knife as you clicked it open and took a stance beside him, your left hand holding on to his tank top to let him know you were still by him.

Three of the dead rushed Jackson, his knife being able to take them out with little effort as you released his shirt, letting him move forward to take care of them as you watched the last four stammer at you. Two of them kept back, their movements abating as Jackson took out the first three, a clicker in the remaining dead calling out to them right as they fell to the ground.

The other four lingered as the clicker came at you first, your knife descending into its skull as it clicked until the blade reached its brain. Jackson took down his three, calling two of the spares in the back as you went for the last one, grabbing it by the shoulder as you whipped it into the ground and stabbed it, the scrunching sound making you nauseated.

“When do we get some food?” you asked Jackson, his eyebrows furrowed at you as he took your hand in his and lead you up a broken escalator.

“That’s why we can’t skip the east bunker, silly. Where do you think it all is?” he chuckled quietly, your dumbfounded expression making him hold his nose to keep from snorting.

The escalator was deserted as you climbed the stairs, small taps of your feet against the rubber mats quiet to not draw attention. The air was turning yellow again, the ceiling glowing from light coming through the glass panels. There were no clouds in the sky, just as the day before, only a weird haze you couldn’t comprehend. Jackson’s hand tightened over yours, pulling you from your absorbed state.

Small moans and groans came from above, making Jackson’s hand tighten even more. Your steps went silent as he lifted to the front of his feet, peering over the top step as his eyes widened. You went up one more step, the height difference making you unable to see, noticing what had Jackson so on edge.

Blood running cold, a large hoard packed around the top floor, the hallway leading to the east bunker currently blocked as they tumbled around each other. Clickers congregated the hoard, herding them like cattle as they circled them. You turned back to look at Jackson, his index finger already over his mouth to warn you not to speak as he leads you up the remaining steps. The clickers kept the hoard intact, their irritated eyes examining them and their surroundings. Jackson walked towards a wall, eyeing the hoard as he looked around the empty floor of the mall.

You noticed an old Radio Shack was a few stores over, enough space between you and the hoard to give you time to think up a plan to get past them and to the east bunker. Tugging at Jackson’s shirt, you pointed at the store, quietly making your way over to it and through the glass doors, crouching behind the counter to speak.

“We can use something here to divert their attention. The clickers can only distract them for so long,” he said, nodding that you decided this store was the best idea.

“We need something that doesn’t start automatically because we need enough time to get out of their way,” you said, another nod from him as he browsed over the shelves, which were still almost stocked. “Alarm clock?”

“We have to set it just right,” he said, picking one up off the shelf and gently turning it over, checking for batteries before looking over the buttons. “This one won’t be loud enough.”

“This one,” you said, handing him an older style that had bells for the alarm instead of music.

“Perfect.”

There was a dial on the back to set the time, watching the hands spin around as Jackson set it to go off in three minutes. He set it down, the vintage clock ticking as he took your hand in his again, both of you heading for the door. The clickers were still gathering the hoard, a few straying away towards the store from the small clicks you made setting the clock. Jackson pulled you into a doorway, the store shut down behind you as you both stood on opposite sides of a skinny gate, out of sight. The clock hit three minutes, the bells rocking together as the alarm sounded. The hoard deviated, the clickers no longer in control as they moved towards the sound, passing by you and Jackson.

He eyed you, inspecting the rest of the hoard as they moved by, most of them headed into the store. Clickers passed, an angered sound coming from them as you both stepped out, making a break for the hallway they once gathered at.

The alarm suddenly stopped, having been knocked over by one of the dead. The clickers attempted to regather them, turning as they heard commotion running in the hallway. A louder click came from them, the hoard focusing as the clickers saw you and Jackson moving from them, calling for the hoard to notice you. Just as your feet hit the edge of the hallway, the hoard was after you, loud screeches and calls as some ran and some crawled, all trying to get to you.

Jackson pulled you forward, a quick sprint as you moved through the hallway, rounding the corner as another small group stood in your way, immediately taking your presence in as they also moved toward you. You were pulled left and right, Jackson’s grip tight on your hand as you and him made a break for the bunker a few feet away, the large box seemingly secluded compared to the last two as it was set inside, what looked to be, a storage room. Making it through the hallway and to the bunker, you and Jackson heaved at the metal doors, shutting them just as the small group and hoard caught up with you, trying to keep the doors shut as Jackson pulled down a large beam, putting it through the door handles enough to latch the doors shut by their hinges, locking them stiff.

You both stood, shaking and out of breath as you heard the dead call from behind the doors. Jackson immediately clasped his arms around you, the hug well needed as you leaned against his chest.

“You okay?” he asked, hands skimming over your skin as he turned you around, looking for any bites or scratches. “Y/N?”

“I’m good. I’m good,” you said, holding on to him as he let you go.

You both turned, noticing the storage room was vacant, but filled with extra furniture and other items sold throughout the mall. The bunker sat, large in the middle of the open storage room as you walked over, pulling the red door open. Jackson was right, a few cups of ramen stacked beside some bottles of water, with cans of vegetables and some junk food lining the countertop.

It was full compared to the west bunker.

Walking in, you and Jackson were able to keep the door ajar, sipping down some of the water as he ripped open a bag of chips, offering you some as you both sat on the floor.

“I don’t understand how this happened,” you said, falling to your side to lean against him. “How did people get sick so quickly? How are some of the dead different from the others? What happened? Why are there bunkers in this mall?”

“It was a refugee camp.” Jackson began. “When we got over-run, everyone still alive, hiding and waiting for help. Then the military showed up and made this a designated safe zone for a while.”

You watched him as he spoke, eyes following his lips.

“Zombie movie knowledge was helpful before all of this happened because if anyone can learn anything from horror movies, it’s that when the military comes in: shit’s about to get worse,” he said, giving you a half-smile. “Obviously, their tactics failed. That’s why the clickers are different. I guess, somehow, the person you were when you were alive is still in you when you’re dead, just a little less you. That’s why the clickers are so coordinated. They’re still convinced they are in the military.”

“What about screamers?” you asked.

“I guess screamers are just people that would scream at every scary occasion,” he said. “Think about it like this: If you had some dude you didn’t know to walk up on you with a hunting knife looking like he was about to kill you, wouldn’t you scream for help?”

“Wow,” you said, tilting your head to the floor as you thought over his words. “That does make sense.”

“It’s a strange world, my dear,” he said, another half-smile on his lips.

Glancing down at his watch, Jackson’s voice turned into a hiss, head leaning back as his half-smile turned into a grin. “We’ve only got an hour left.”

“Already?” you said, bouncing against the floor as you hugged against him. “It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long.”

“Time flies when you’re surviving.”

Resting for another few minutes, Jackson stood back up and did his usual routine of gathering everything into your bags. You decided to step out of the bunker, able to freely move for the first time in a while without worrying about one of the dead walking up on you. The room was well lit compared to the rest of the building, the ceiling made of the same glass paneling as the main section of the mall, allowing the yellow light into all of the corners of the room.

Hearing Jackson clank around some of his weapons inside the bunker, you turned around to look back into the small room. A girl, shorter than you, was walking beside the bunker, leaning against it as her body slid in your direction.

“H-hello?” you asked gently, her matted hair covering her face as she walked. “Are you okay?”

Her hands lifted from her sides, fingers long and deformed, covered in blood as she held them out to you.

“Jack-!” you went to yell, her body jumping onto yours as she screeched above you, tears sliding down her face as the blood from her hands dripped onto your skin.

Her body was light but strong, her face behind her bangs scratched up as if she had been attacked by an animal. As her screams sounded in the storage room, reverberating off the walls and into the bunker, you heard something drop as you fought against her. Jackson ran out, his hunting knife in his hand as he grabbed her by her hair, yanking her backward and onto the floor as she sputtered at you, trying to crawl back over. Her eyes, just as bloodshot as the other dead, moved from you to Jackson, her form falling back onto the ground as she began to weep.

“No,” Jackson said, holding the knife to his head as he looked frustrated. “No!”

“Ahh!” she cried at the two of you, her mouth ripped as you shuffled to your feet.

“Jackson!” you called to him, watching him pace back and forth between the two of you. “Jackson please.”

His watch on his wrist chimed, sounding that the helicopter was set to be on the roof in ten minutes.

“Jackson, we have to go!” you said, running into the bunker as you zipped up your bags and pulled them out, trying to give Jackson his.

“We have to leave,” you said to him, watching the tears fall down his face again as sobs came from his lips.

He crouched down, hand out towards the dead girl before him as she bawled against the hard floor, her cries turning into screeches again. You looked over at the single door, reading the sign that said stairs as you tried to pull Jackson to his senses, your pleas not working as he couldn’t get his eyes off of her.

“Jackson!”

“Ta-Take my bag,” he said to you between sniffles. “Go through that door, up the stairs, and onto the roof. The helicopter will be on the right edge waiting for you.”

“N-No, Jackson. This isn’t how this is supposed to go.” you cried to him, watching as he fell onto his knees between you and the weeping dead girl.

“You don’t understand, Y/N.,” he said. “This is how it always goes. This is how my story in the game plays.”

“W-What?”

“Why do you think I’m still here, Y/N?” he shouted at you. “I can’t leave. I’m not supposed to leave. Ever!”

“You can come with me! You said I’m your ticket out!”

“No! My only ticket in this world is staying with her,” he said, blubbering in the direction of his ex-girlfriend on the floor.

“You get to leave here because to you, this is just a game. This is my universe, Y/N.” he said, your own crying not stopping him. “It’s fucked up, but it’s mine. And I can’t leave with you.”

He stood, hugging you to him as he put your backpack onto your shoulders, handing you his own as he kissed your forehead and gestured for you to go towards the door.

“I’ll be okay.”

“What will happen to you?” you cried.

“I’ll respawn, just as I always do. I’ll get to lead someone else through here again.”

“You’re forever stuck in this cycle?”

“Yes.”

His words rang through your ears as you keened, slumping through the door and up the steps to the roof. The helicopter was sat on the right edge, the blades whirring around making the dead under the mall run in different directions.

You ran up to the helicopter, the driver calling out to you as another man in the back put a headset over your head, helping you jump into the aircraft.

“I don’t want to leave him!” you called out over the microphone to the others.

“Everyone says that.” the pilot laughed, hitting a few buttons as the helicopter began lifting.

You sobbed, moving the mic from your face as you cried into your hands.

“W-Wait!” you heard a voice call, two hands gripping onto the edge of the helicopter as it lifted from the mall, a hoard following the person as they floated with the aircraft.

“Help me in!” Jackson yelled, the other man in the back with you gifting him his hand as he pulled him up and into the seat beside you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” called the pilot as he turned around to yell at Jackson.

“You see this?” Jackson laughed, pointing at you as you hugged your body against him.

“This is my ticket!”


End file.
